


Turk Week 2020

by Asylos



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asylos/pseuds/Asylos
Summary: Turk Week 2020 Prompt FillsDay 1: FirstsDay 2: SuitsDay 3: MIA “Missing in Action” / Rescue MissionDay 4: A Stressful WeekDay 5: Holiday Party
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10
Collections: Final Fantasy VII Turk Week





	1. Day 1: Firsts

Day 1 : Firsts

It was a first for Reno. He was used to killing people, that was part of the job, but usually it was a face to face kind of thing. Usually you wanted someone to know why they were dying, that they had wrong ShinRa and they were paying the price for it. It wasn’t usually like this. Not this mass slaughter. Not this killing of hundreds of people, innocent people, kids even, sitting at home, eating their dinner, sleeping in their beds. “Job’s done partner, let’s go,” he said to Rude, nudging him in the side and pointing back to the chopper where it sat waiting for them. “Orders is orders, don’t dwell on it.” 

Rude looked him up and down from where he leaned against the railing, watching the destruction below. Reno could feel his eyes on him, even behind the dark glasses. His partner nodded and led the way toward the chopper. He didn’t say anything, there wasn’t anything to say. They’d done their job, they’d do it again. It didn’t matter whose hand had been on the switch, they’d done it together, as partners. They’d just been following orders. The guilt was theirs to bear, and always would be, but that’s what you got when you put on the Suit. You didn’t get to make the call. You gave up that choice. “Stop thinking about it, it ain’t going to change anything,” he said to Rude, wiping some dust out of his eye before sliding his goggles down and starting up the chopper. Rude nodded, and said nothing. What was there to say? Job was done. It was time to go tell the boss it was a job well done, get the metaphorical pat on the head, and go home. Except home wasn’t there anymore now was it? Home was buried under a thousand tonnes of concrete and metal and bones.


	2. Day 2: Suits

Cloud smoothed down the suit and turned to look at his back in the mirror. “Does it really look okay?”

“Jeepers kid, relax! You look fine. Real good in fact,” Reno said, giving a wolf-whistle of appreciation, which made Cloud give a nervous laugh. “You look like a bonafide Turk, now calm your tits. You’ll do fine, as long as you remember to follow my lead.”

“Right,” Cloud grinned, a bit of excitement starting to push the nervousness down. He was going on a secret mission. Him! They were going to catch the people who had been sending threats in against his hero, and he was going to get to help save the day, and maybe even meet the Silver General himself when all was said and done. Not bad for someone who had washed out of the Soldier training before he could even start. 

“Now, you remember where all your secret pockets are?” Reno asked, reaching inside the suit jacket. Cloud tried not to flinch back from the intimate touch. Reno slipped something into each of the pockets and Cloud filed away the placement of each object as they were listed off. “Try not to damage the suit. It’s worth a lot.” Cloud eyed Reno pointedly, taking in the state of the Turk’s own suit, and the redhead laughed.


	3. Day 3: MIA “Missing in Action” / Rescue Mission

Reno knew better than to talk, but the people who had managed to find him unconscious after the explosion didn’t seem to understand that. Blood trickled from his nose, down his throat and down his face. He was pretty sure it was broken again. He was never going to manage to breathe right through it again, was he, he mused to himself. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear the latest question they asked. 

“Well?” one of them screamed in his face. He wasn’t sure what any of them looked like, the blindfold made sure of that, but this one he had nicknamed “Malboro Breath”, for what he felt was a very good reason. 

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” Reno asked, as cheerfully as he could manage with swollen lips. His head rang as he was struck again. He spat out some of the blood in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if the sound of disgust he heard meant that he had managed to hit someone with it. He hoped he had. “I really don’t know the answer to that question, sorry.” The next hit saved him from coming up with something witty, for which he was grateful. It was getting hard to think of anything new. 

The next hands that touched him were ones he knew. Rude’s hands were always gentle, despite the big man’s demeanour, and he knew them anywhere. He felt them on his face, soft, delicate. He tried to tell him that he was fine, but only blood came out at first, and then apologies. Rude shushed him, and he felt another pair of hands behind him, on his wrists, checking the bindings there. These were small and delicate, Elena. His hands were let loose and his shoulders instantly flared up with complaint. He tried to voice these complaints for his shoulders, but just groaned instead, leaning his forehead against Rude’s. He realized the blindfold was gone, but his eyes were too swollen to open, so he didn’t try. He let Rude pick him up and carry him out, swearing all the while, but not aloud, that he could walk on his own.


	4. Day 4: A Stressful Week

Reno surveyed the office, taking in the scattered debris of paper, bandages, discarded weapons and jackets, laying across the furniture and floor. With a deep sigh he leaned over to start picking some of it up, grunting as his broken ribs protested. A quick trip to the supply closet found him armed with the “grabby stick” and he made use of that to grab the items off the floor so he could spare himself further discomfort. With jackets hung on the coat rack, and weapons properly secured, he sat at the desk to sort through the collected papers to determine what was worth keeping, and what, along with the filthy bandages, should be unceremoniously tossed in the bin. By the time he was done, the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. He took a moment to watch it breach that barrier as he sipped his cold sludge of a coffee. Living beneath the plate, he didn’t often get this view, especially so unobstructed like this. ShinRa Tower stood above everything like a great panopticon. 

He heard the door click open behind him, and caught the scent of Tseng’s cologne. “Mornin’ Boss.” He heard a soft sound of appreciation as his commander surveyed the state of the room, but the man said nothing. Reno knew that was the best he was going to get in terms of a compliment or commendation for his long night of tidying, but it was enough.


	5. Day 5. Holiday Party

The new kid wanted to have a holiday party, for the winter solstice. It was something he had done back home, and feeling homesick, he was hoping to transplant it to his new family. Elena had been ecstatic, jumping right into planning with him, and Tseng had reluctantly agreed. He supposed it would be good for morale. He didn’t bother asking the higher ups to sign off on it, instead slipping the planners some money out of pocket. It was simpler that way, and it wasn’t as if it would cause him any hardship. They assumed the money came from the Company, and he didn’t bother to correct them. Elena surely would have started a collection up if she knew and tried to pay him back.

The party was still fairly reserved,at least to start. They were at work afterall. The new kid brought in snacks from his hometown, painstakingly made while on a call with his mum as she coached him through it. Reno in particular seemed enchanted by a stew dish, already on his third bowl by the time Tseng had arrived. The redhead kept trying to convince his partner to try it, shoving the spoon in his face, but the man was resolute that his chosen plate of tiny pastries was far better. Elena was mixing up a bowl of punch, and Tseng headed over to it. He pulled a small bottle of spirits from his jacket pocket and made sure everyone was watching as he poured it into the bowl. He slipped the bottle back into his jacket and asked Elena for a glass of the punch. He took the glass back to his desk and set it down without drinking any, then set to work on a pile of paperwork. And that was that, consent was given, and the real partying could begin.


End file.
